Ribaldry And Rapture: The Wanton Thaumaturgy Of Alleron And Daria
by Quillon42
Summary: This is really "Warriors" Of Might And Magic, and not "Heroes," but there was no category slot for Warriors so I am using license here. In this passionate parable herein, Daria huffily hoofs it to the desk of the Inquisitor so she can vent about Alleron...but it is not the hooded hater whom she finds but rather the hero, who converts her animus into amorousness.


RIBALDRY AND RAPTURE: THE WANTON THAUMATURGY OF ALLERON AND DARIA

By Quillon42

Waveringly the candle flame held its light while the heavy wooden and leaden doors grunted open, this sounding stridently like the boom of a late 1990s ludological rocket launcher shell explosion. Outlining the space in the threshold was quite the vindictive virago, she a shrewish siren who lusted for power more than aught else, more than the luxuries that lucre could afford, more than the ecstatic embracing limbs of a lover otherwise.

And yet it would so be the latter who would awaken the lady once more to the idea that living for limitless reign over the realm would be a lethally lonely endeavor, such that the comfort of corporeal gratification would make her feel all the more fulfilled.

She squinted now through the musty forbidding chamber of old, did this Daria, the dread dame possessing the name of a smarmy animated teenage Morgendorffer from centuries to come, yet also flaunting the figure of any representation of temptress Morgan Le Fay from any time period. Vindictively the lady trudged through the antediluvian library, she demanding an audience with what appeared to be a malevolent magenta rendition of a mage from Magicka for Microsoft but rather was a sinister sir who preferred to be addressed only as the Inquisitor.

Now the nefarious nymph had nearly reached the desk at which that cruel and callous cerise-cloaked cur had held court. Infuriated that the chair in which the insidious Inqy sat had its back turned to her, Daria reached for an arm of the same and wrenched the fixture full around to face her.

Thence her furious if faylike features were as swathed with surprise as those of the individual before her were shrouded in sable. Across the oaken desk now was that same cowled champion whose existed she cursed for decades, his countenance awash in that animate atramentous accoutrement that made the man looked as if he were a Batman of this backwards era, a Dark Knight of this ever so drastically dark age indeed.

Possessed with as much visible discomfiture as her real life counterpart at the end of that corny 3DO commercial corresponding to the source material of this magnificent story, this Daria in a daze had uttered that selfsame name which was anathema to this malicious madam for so long, that appellation belonging to her very essence's most loathed allergen.

With the same quantum of astonishment as that turdly thirty second television ad, Daria now:

"Alleron."

In turn, this same maven of the mediocre action role-player roundly parleyed back most mockingly in shock:

"Daria."

Cautiously the two measured one another, the man understanding that the woman was capable of much in the way of magic most mortifying…the galling gal cognizant that the gallant guy could be overwhelming with his might most masculine.

Upon the open portion of the hero's feral facewear the devious dudette could make out the most mirthful of smirks, which she matched with a most nefarious sneer. "You cannot ken how much I wish to pitch the prophecy out of a confining tower window right now and annihilate you right here."

Now the smirk from the other had graduated to a grin. His gaze had receded from his anxious antagonist as his eyes seemed to search the sterile ceiling of the chamber. For her part, the fatalistic femme opposite him thought that he was having some sort of subtle seizure, the way Alleron averted his irises almost to the point of exposing the pale portion of his peepers entirely.

But unbeknownst to this alluring ally of the unctuous Inquisitor, what the hero was actually perpetrating at the moment was the perusal of his menu most internal of incantations that he could utilize against his erotic enemy. For certain, all of the summonings of elemental concussive force would only incite the lurid lamia into countering with conjurations that would be astronomically more effective and result in his erasure from this muddy-textured plane of existence which was his world.

Indeed, this trooper most tepid would have to resort to warlock's words which were much less combative and more along the lines of something…Charming.

Some suspended breaths in passing and Daria was dashing towards her Fabio-framed foe, she raising her arms of alabaster as her luscious lips parted for her to commence a sentence mellifluous to the ear but murderous to the body of Alleron otherwise. In turn, the mercenary of mediocre fantasy fare began to speak with his hands like some compelling compatriot of political rap outfit Public Enemy.

Enraged that this hunky homunculus was daring to turn tricks of the preternatural type when such behavior was supposed to be exclusively the bailiwick of her own, the most delectable Dar now darted ever more quickly, she determined to wrench off the mask from the features of this fool…along with the rest of his uncovered head for measure. Yet before she could make it to the man

[UHHHHHOOOHHHHHHAHHHHH]

she became seized by a sensual fugue most fantastic, it all emanating from the Charm spell that Alleron now enacted. All faculties of the formidable female now flowed with the pheromones which the hero learned to manifest authentically (unlike those snake oil concoctions of testosterone sold today which this story's reader can purchase, use, and later fail to attract any more people than said reader may or may not have managed before buying same).

Effused with such potent chemicals, this medieval analogue to the astral mastermind that was the _Battletoads_ Dark Queen now keened acutely in her latently-realized solitude, she pulling her fists back against her generous chest with frenzied breaths. Daria was deluged this instant not with a desire for rule over the realm, but rather for a reign over this ruffian who knavishly awakened such a craving for communion so corporeal, the likes of which had heretofore been so arcane to the exquisite occultist.

Now the two engaged one another with ever more physical urgency, the maiden maddened still with such an itch herein to overpower her opponent, yet because of the enchantment upon her she wished for the same by way of much gentler and intimate means. With a deft flash of her delicate hand Daria whisked off the veil of seeming cellophane that draped the hallowed hinterlands of her heaving hindquarters, then with but a whisper uttered an ethereal effect that erased the vile visor from Alleron's kisser. Fervently the man wished to draw such deepened breaths after being so finally facially liberated, but then his features were flooded not with that ominous writhing ebony entity but rather with the divine diaphanousness of that tiny translucent train that skirted this ravishing raven-tressed temptress's roundest of rears.

Assailed utterly was Alleron by way of this gluteal garment, much more effectively than anything that could issue from an armory or from alchemy. Feverishly he felt the gossamer fabric caress his cheeks, nose, and eyes; his face's skin osmosed the seductress's seat sweat permeating the veil, so very readily without resistance. This all occurred as the erogenous enchantress scaled the soldier atop the archaic desk of the Inquisitor, as she employed an Arctic Blast (the ancient spell, not the Icee imitation) to render boreal, then brittle, then broken the cushy corset cradling her top heavy torso. Widened eyes of the explorer were trained upon the glowing globes of cerulean that were this damsel of the damned's own iridescent irises, then upon the mango-diameter taupe tarot coins topping the tremendous couple of cream codexes that then coursed aggressively into the mug of the man, Alleron becoming imbued with more nourishment from the demigoddess Daria's burliest breasts than any one-tenth-health restorative verdant vial he managed to scare up in the various sewers and deserts he duly scrounged.

With much gusto these two gladiator-contenders proceeded with their copulatory combat, Daria mounting the resourceful ranger and romping most ravenously upon the same, she whipping him contemptuously now with her pellucid waist shroud all the while. Though the lady covered the literal marathon length of Alleron's entire Warriors quest in all of her repetitive risings and fallings upon the countenance-challenged champion, she did not quite claim the climax she sought atop him as the latter lunged with both hungering hands and rotated them both so that he now served as her sleekest sheet upon the base bed that was the Inquisitor's desk. Musingly his mouth marauded across the sensuous scape of her fair shapely figure, each of her areolas intersecting intermittently with his uvula, his lips skimming across the unsullied monastery sanctum of her wan yet wondrous belly, his tongue traversing a pleasuring protracted trip within the Daglathor dungeon of those darkest yet most delicious depths between those two immaculate isthmuses of her isabelline thighs.

Thence the warrior wielded his Terrenus Scroll and sent it most masterfully into the volcano of voluptuousness that was this apprentice's end most enticing in fact. Thunderously the contents of Alleron's potent parchment emptied such warfaring wisdom into the vixen Daria's voluminous annals, and when he felt he was arriving at his last thrust he vigorously veered with his vorpal vellum so that the scholar that was his paramour became so enlightened with limitless carnal knowledge.

So overflowing was Al's pentacle-endowed tentacle in fact that he felt a need to aim the same at the ceiling of this miserable crypt, resulting in a stain of visceral virtue upon that surface which so many employees of modern settings had wished to effect with their own fluids by way of the wives of their supervisors, upon a contemporary counterpart of the very desk that these auld time trysters had so currently occupied herein.

Incredibly spent by means of mana and health otherwise was this couple of conquerors now…and even though it was indeed the case for each

[BA-BA-BA-BA-BA-BAAAAAAAAAAAAA]

that Daria and Alleron alike had leveled up to an umpteenth tier through their raunchy rencontre, neither had his or her respective energy meters restored by even a tad (as the _Warriors_ game similarly, stingily also failed to do for players who leveled, unlike say ANY other Action RPGer in existence ever). As such, one had to reach for the other once more for consortial support, and prop up one another in even the falling action of their heated exchange, not unlike boxers embracing illegally for a microbreak in the midst of a balls-out bout.

Concerning the subject of balls additionally, those tender members of Alleron had gone in the course of this confrontation with his mystic mistress had gone from the green Enroth emerald color of inexperience to the red Enroth ruby hue of overuse. (Forsooth, Daria certainly did not render the hero's underspheres any blue Non-Enroth sapphire shade of refusal regarding the engagement of explicit of a relations). At any rate, the Concupiscence with which the Warrior had become empowered now rivaled the forces of Light or any of the Elements otherwise that he had mastered in past chapters of his voyage.

As it would turn out as well, matters were such that the hegemonic prophecy over the realm was in fact wrong to an extent. Although it is true that one of them possessed a deific Dadderdoodle who managed to get around with more than his fair share of fraulein within the borders of the map of meh that constituted this world, between Daria and Alleron only one of them was in fact his own, and that was, incidentally, the former. Regarding the latter, it was just the case that the journeying Jerkald's Vest bearer just happened to be that strong and skilled otherwise so as to approach the status of virtual demigodliness, but he did not reach it in technical actuality.

In other words, between Al and Dar it was a reverse Star Wars situation, and given that they were not in the end from the same bloodline along the dynamic of Luke and Leia, they were free to fuck without guilt to their dual hearts' content. Given that this revelation lifted an incredible burden from the series' leading lady in particular, she was more than happy to decompress through doing the dirty with her erstwhile antagonist oodles of occasions into the ages ahead.


End file.
